Fairytale of New York
by CiaraCobb
Summary: How will Flack cope with his first Christmas since losing Angell.


**Fairytale of New York**

Detective Don Flack hurried home through the city streets, crowded as they were with the hoards of shoppers busy hunting for that perfect gift. He glanced skywards at clouds heavy with the threat of snow and shivered, turned his collar up and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets.

Christmas in New York was a time of mixed emotions for a member of the NYPD. While the rest of the city revelled in the festive season, being a homicide detective meant facing the darker side of the holiday. For Don, this Christmas was going to be harder than any other he had worked. Just 6 months ago his girlfriend and fellow detective Jessica Angell had been killed in a diner whilst taking a witness to trial. Jessica had been the youngest child, and the only girl in a biggish family, and as a result had always loved the holidays, even after she joined the force.

Passing the Santa on the corner of his block Don drew his hand out of his pocket and dropped some change into his collection bucket.

"Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas," the guy in the fat suit and big white beard called after him and Don smiled,

"Happy holidays," he called back before hunching his shoulders against the cold one more, making a mental note to dig his scarf out of the closet. A few moments later he arrived at the door of his building and stepped inside. The change in temperature was marked and he pulled his hands from his pockets, turned down his collar and undid the buttons on his black wool coat. The coat had been a gift from Jess the Christmas before, and wearing it now served two purposes, it kept him warm in the New York winter, and reminded him of the woman he had loved.

Detective Mac Taylor, head of the New York Crime Lab looked up at the knock on his office door, while it was rarely closed, most of his staff would knock before entering. That didn't apply to the homicide detective attached to his lab, so Mac was very surprised to see Don Flack standing waiting to be granted permission to enter.

Mac waved him in with a smile, "What's up Don?" the older man asked, rising from his seat behind his desk, he was headed out into the lab any moment anyway to check on his team's progress with a particular case, so was grateful for the interruption.

"Hey Mac, listen, I need to take a couple of personal days. I know it's askin' a lot after, well, y'know." Flack tailed off and looked at Mac, while he didn't need to ask Mac's permission the two men had gone through some stuff in the months since Angell's death and Flack felt it only right.

"Need to do some last minute Christmas shopping? Or is it something I can help you with?" Mac asked, drawing level with Flack. Don shook his head, dropping his eyes away from Mac's.

"You know if you need anything you just have to tell me Don."

"Yeah Mac, I know. It's nothin',"

Mac nodded, "Well, I'll tell your lieutenant. That everything? I need to catch up with Stella."

"Sure, sorry to bother you Mac."

Flack turned to leave but Mac stopped him.

"Don, I meant what I said. Christmas can be a time of extreme stress, I hope if you need me you would know you can talk to me."

Flack nodded and left the office, leaving Mac feeling somewhere between anxiety and exasperation.

Two days later Mac Taylor had closed the big case he had been working on. It was just a few days till Christmas and he still had gifts to buy. Stella as always was proving the hardest person on his gift list to buy for, even as long as he had known her he still left it far too late every year. Running a close second in difficulty was Don Flack. In previous years Mac had bought the detective a decent bottle of Scotch and that had always been enough, but this year, after the self medicating spiral Don had fallen into after Jess died, there was no way Mac could even countenance such a gift.

Grimacing at the very idea of what he was about to do, Mac took a deep breath and pushed open the door in front of him, leaving the relative calm of the sidewalk behind for the insanity that was Bloomingdales the week before Christmas. Just steps inside the front door Mac was almost knocked off his feet by a tiny, frail looking old woman with a look of determination like Mac had never seen before. Mac chuckled to himself and headed into the depths of the store to find the few remaining gifts he needed.

3 hours later, utterly drained, but finally having completed his shopping Mac gathered up the bags with his purchases in and made to leave the store. Outside he could hear the strains of what sounded like an old Irish folk song, probably buskers trying to make some extra cash before Christmas he thought to himself. Mac walked through the front door and out into the cold. In the time he had been in the store the snow that had been threatening for days had finally begun to fall and the shoppers on the streets were rushing about their business, trying to avoid the weather as much as they could.

One group who had no such worries were the small group of singers who stood huddled together. Mac looked closer and saw the board in front of them bearing the logo of the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund, he began walking over with the intention of leaving a donation. He knew far too many good people who had given their lives in the protection of this great city, and it was even more poignant this year with Angell's passing still so fresh in many people's minds. Mac smiled despite the cold as he heard the lyrics that reached his ears over the traffic and chatter of folk on the sidewalk,

_And if there's is going to be a life hereafter,  
And somehow I am sure there's going to be,  
I will ask my God to let me make my heaven,  
In that dear land across the Irish sea. _

Recognising the lines from the old folk song Galway Bay Mac drew closer to enjoy the music but drew up short as he looked over the singers, all members, current or retired, of the NYPD. In the middle of the back row stood a familiar face, 6 foot two of Irish American detective with dark brown hair and smiling blue eyes. Mac shook his head as his eyes moved along the line and his smile got even broader. Next to Flack stood Cliff Angell, Jessica's father and a former Detective Sergeant with the NYPD, the two men had their arms around each others shoulders, supporting each other through the emotion of the song, the situation and their shared loss.

Mac stood in the crowd until the singers finished and then walked over to leave his donation. He caught Don's eye as he dropped the ten dollar bill into the collection in front of the group. Don said something to Mr Angell and then the two men walked over together to stand by Mac, Don nodded in greeting and Mac looked up at the younger man, "So this was why?"

Don smiled, "Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't say anything before Mac. I'd like you to meet..."

"Mr Angell, Jessica's father. It's an honour sir, just as it was to work alongside your daughter." Mac freed a hand from his shopping bags and extended it in greeting.

"Thank you for that Detective." Cliff shook Mac's hand and smiled in response, "I know she enjoyed working with your team, and especially with you."

Mac took control of his bags once more, "It was good to see you Don," Mac said, emphasizing the good, "and to meet you Mr Angell. I hope the fundraising is a success."

Don watched Mac as he headed home with his Christmas shopping and smiled, yeah it was going to be a hard Christmas, but he would get through it with the help of his friends. Don turned away and followed behind Cliff Angell as they walked back to the rest of the singers and helped them clear up their pitch. Once everything was cleared away the group began to disperse, Cliff stopped next to Don and the two men shook hands.

"Boxing Day, no excuses this time. Jess woulda wanted it."

Don nodded, "Wouldn't miss it." He said, and this time he knew he meant it.


End file.
